


Solstheim Nights

by Espereth



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Friendship, Interesting NPCs Mod, M/M, Protective Companionship, Sharing Body Heat, Skyrim Followers, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espereth/pseuds/Espereth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonborn's two followers don't get on with each other: Hard-headed, capable Teldryn Sero clashes with the work-shy Altmer bladebinder, Rumarin. They're both as snarky as each other, and giving the Dragonborn a headache. What do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstheim Nights

**Author's Note:**

> For the Kinkmeme: http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=9185508#t9185508
> 
> Rumarin is part of the Interesting NPCs mod. http://www.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/8429/

The wind-driven mixture of ash and sleet nearly blinded Jescarius Cantallo and his two companions, as the travellers struggled up through a frozen pass in the north of Solstheim. What Jes could see of the sky was a spiralling black churn of ash, growing as it approached. A storm was on its way.

Teldryn Sero, face hidden behind his chitin helmet and glass goggles, was at Jes's shoulder. "Getting darker," called the wiry Dunmer spellsword, raising his voice over the roar of the wind.

He was right. As evening approached, it was getting more and more difficult to see the ground in front of them. Jes's unease had become stomach-twisting anxiety. If they didn't find shelter soon, they would meet the same fate as the many unwise adventurers before them who had been caught in ash storms amongst Solstheim's icebound peaks.

Jes paused to look over his shoulder for the third member of his small party, shielding his eyes with his hand. Both of Jes's companions had stayed with him through this fool's errand on Solstheim - lunatic place that it was - even coming to find him when he'd been chipping away at Miraak's shrine around the Sun Stone in a stupor. Jes was damned if he was going to lose either of them.

"Where is Rumarin?" Jes had to shout to be heard, although Teldryn was mere inches away. 

Teldryn pointed, and the figure of the slender Altmer bladebinder took shape. With his blue-grey robes, hood drawn tight to shield his face, he was almost invisible through the grey sleet. Teldryn turned back to look at Jes. Jes could imagine the Dunmer's dubious "told-you-so" expression under the goggles and canvas that protected his eyes and face from the driving ash, and sighed inwardly. He had enough to deal with without his companions complaining about each other. 

"Move your yellow arse, Rumarin," Teldryn yelled through the howl of the wind, and they waited while he caught up.

"You need to stay closer," Jes called, when Rumarin had reached them. His face was paler than ever, the daubs of red-brown war paint stark against his skin. From the look of him, he needed rest, and soon. But now was no time for sympathy. 

"Then by all the Gods, slow down," Rumarin gasped. Despite his longer legs, he was slower than both Jes and Teldryn, unused to trekking through such a harsh environment. "Can't you do something about this? I thought the Dragonborn could control the weather!"

"Not this Dragonborn," Jes called.

Teldryn laughed derisively at the question and began to walk, bracing himself into the wind. "You go to Vvardenfell and tell the Red Mountain it's displeasing the Dragonborn," he said as he struck out ahead. "Come on, you lazy fetchers."

They pressed on for another hour in the fading light, making very little headway. The wind beat at them, lashing their armor and clothes with ash-sleet. Once, Jes trod on a loose rock and went skidding and sliding back down the slope. Rumarin crouched to rest his legs while Jes climbed back up and wiped off his clothes.

"Sorry I didn't stick close," the Altmer called, grinning. "Should I have fallen on my arse too?"

Jes dismissed Rumarin with an irritated grumble and gave him a little shove between the shoulder-blades to make him move. They plodded on. Knee-deep in an ash-grey snow drift, every step was laborious. At least Rumarin and Teldryn were too breathless to snipe at each other, he thought.

The last light was falling on the icy peaks high above their heads when Rumarin called out. "There! Over there!" Jes turned his head to look, and saw a dark cleft between two rocky outcrops up ahead. A tiny cave entrance, more like a tunnel. Gods knew what was inside, but it would have to do. If they stayed in the open much longer, they'd be lost - whether frozen to death or turned into troll bait, it hardly mattered. 

"Let's move," Jes called, and spurred on with renewed hope, the three made for the outcrop, hauling their feet from frozen sludge with every step.

With their chests heaving, freezing sweat trickling down their backs, they fell on hands and knees at the mouth of the tunnel and crawled inside. 

*****

Jes's ears rang in the silence of the cavern system, after the howl of the storm outside. Standing up, he peered around as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Ugh, that smell," said Rumarin, covering his mouth and nose as he and Teldryn got to their feet beside him. "It's got to be those little goblin-things. 'Reeklings'. A good name for them, it must be said."

Teldryn shook his head. "Riekling scent is old," he rasped, still catching his breath after their dash to shelter and the crawl through the narrow tunnel. "I'd guess they've left, or been driven out by Reavers." 

"Oh, that makes me feel _so_ much better," said Rumarin. "At least bandits usually have basic language skills. Excepting the Orcs, of course. Do you think if we say we've got no interest in their lair except sheltering for the night, they'll leave us alone? …Oh, who am I kidding."

"Quiet," Teldryn said, holding up a hand to hush him. 

They stood in silence, listening, and allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Gradually the cave took shape from the darkness. They were in a largish chamber some way under the mountain to the east of the pass they'd been travelling through. The walls were a combination of sharp rock and shards of shining ice. _Stalhrim_ , thought Jes, scanning with an opportunist's eye for deposits of the enchanted ice-stone. If they could find even one or two veins of Stalhrim, they might break even on this venture, or even turn a profit. After a journey like this one, Jes knew his companions would need something to keep them keen; and one-third of a good haul of Stalhrim would boost any mercenary's mood.

Jes found that he had used much of his magicka reserves in keeping himself on his feet, but he summoned what was left of his energy to sense for life around them. Teldryn and Rumarin glowed beside him, bright and warm, but he felt nothing else. He pushed himself further, concentrating, and felt something dull and unthinking off in the depths. Horkers, maybe. There might be a conduit to the coast, in that case.

His head spun suddenly and he swayed, feeling his magicka resources burn out to nothing. Rumarin steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

Jes rubbed his forehead. "No danger, for now," he said, clapping Rumarin lightly on his back. "Make camp." He unslung his pack and relished the relief on his sore shoulders. "We all need rest."

*****

Using a careful spell, Teldryn had managed to build a small, sustained fire from a tightly-packed ball of moss and crumpled paper. Although his repertoire with other elements of destruction was limited, Teldryn could do things with fire that Jes had never seen before. It was certainly useful. As he warmed, Jes felt magicka trickling slowly back into his body. Not enough yet for a full scan of the cave system, but soon. They'd stay awake until he and Teldryn had each searched thoroughly for signs of life around them, then rest, taking turns on watch. 

The Dunmer sat on a rock, his back angled to the fire, running the fine, curved blade of his ebony sword along a whetstone. He'd taken off his helmet, but his light chitin plate armor was still buckled fast. Jes, who always wore fur, had loosened his but kept it on for warmth. Rumarin was holding his outer robe to the small fire, trying without much success to dry it.

The slow _shhng, shhng, shhhhhng_ of ebony on stone was liable to send Jes to sleep. The fire snapped softly. He caught himself dozing, until Teldryn gave a loud, rattling cough. After a lifetime of breathing in the ash of the ill-fated Red Mountain, Teldryn's lungs troubled him in cold like this. Jes made up his mind to send the Dunmer to Whiterun for some much-needed rest, just as soon as he could spare him.

 _Shhng, shhng, shhhhhng,_ went the whetstone in Teldryn's steady hands.

"Er - Teldryn, how long will that take?" asked Rumarin.

Teldryn ignored him.

"Only - you've been doing it for ages," Rumarin persisted. "Will you have any sword left?"

"Think you could do a better job?" muttered Teldryn.

"Not at all," Rumarin said. "I've never sharpened a blade in my life. One of the many benefits of bladebinding."

Teldryn _hmphed_ , a sour smile curving one side of his mouth. "What do you plan to do, Altmer, when you meet an opponent who can Silence you? Where are your bound weapons then?"

"Usually I run away," Rumarin said. "It's worked so far."

Teldryn grunted knowingly, the rhythm of his whetstone unchanging.

"That noise really is irritating," said Rumarin.

"I can hear something else that's irritating," Teldryn said. 

"Oh! Let me guess. Is it my voice? I've been told I have an annoying voice. It's probably an Altmer thing. How interesting that you noticed it too."

Jes massaged his temples, an ache building behind his eyes. "Next man to speak has his pay docked," he announced, but he knew they wouldn't take that seriously. He was a soft touch with hirelings; always had been. 

"Technically, you're the only man here, Boss," Rumarin pointed out. "Teldryn's all mer. And my masculinity has always been... er, questionable, at best."

Jes reached for his knapsack and tossed it at Rumarin. "Here," he said. "See what rations we've got. Might as well eat while we can."

Rumarin began to pick through the contents of the knapsack, nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Ash yams. Ash turnips. Ash this, ash that." Rumarin found a gelatinous amber substance that wobbled in its pot. "Ash… whatever this is. Ugh." 

Teldryn sheathed his sword and stood up, stretching. "Show me that." He sniffed the pot and nodded approval. "Hopper jelly," he said. "It's filling."

"I'll take your word for it," Rumarin told him. "I'm not eating something that came out of an insect."

"Then you won't be eating," said Teldryn, taking the yams and a turnip. "Ash-hopper jelly makes good thick stew."

"That's hardly fair," Rumarin complained. "Jes, tell him it's hardly fair."

Jes ignored them both. He didn't care what they ate, as long as it was food, and preferably hot. He'd got used to trying not to think about the alien smells and textures of Dunmer cooking. He caught a yam when Teldryn tossed it to him, and began to scrape off the fibrous skin with his belt knife.

Soon they had a stew bubbling in a small pot perched on two stones in the fire. After a half-hour or so, Jes stirred it, pronounced it ready enough, and spooned some of the slippery mush into his mouth. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until he started eating, his stomach grumbling impatiently. Realising his companions must be just as ravenous as he was, he passed the pot on to Teldryn. 

"You bring that pickaxe?" Teldryn asked, taking the pot. "The one for Stalhrim?"

Jes nodded. The stew slid down his gullet, hot and thick, warming him from the inside. "I have a feeling there's good deposits here," he said. "Thinking maybe we'll stay another day, get as much as we can carry."

"Mining," said Rumarin. "That sounds delightful, and not at all like tedious manual labour. What's this famed pickaxe made of?" He accepted the pot of stew from Teldryn, and sniffed it warily. "It must be extremely durable. Why don't you just make armor out of whatever your pickaxe is made of, and save all the messing about?"

Teldryn groaned, running the palm of his hand over his face. "What exactly are his skills, Jescarius?" he growled. "Why is he here? I don't think you've ever explained that."

"Running away is a skill," Rumarin said. He tasted the stew. "Teldryn, you really are masterful. I couldn't have made a more appealing insect-y yam paste if I'd tried." 

"Running away is a liability," Teldryn said. "And you're too bright."

"Well, thank you," Rumarin said. "I must say, I don't usually hear that every day. Or, you know, at all."

"Your weapons, numbskull. Bound blades shine in the dark like a beacon."

"Oh, that," said Rumarin. "Well, just remember - the less weight I set out with, the more our gallant Dragonborn can load me up with useless junk instead of you."

"Quiet," Jes said. "You're both here because you're willing to fight beside me. I don't care about the reasons for that. You're free men - leave any time you want. Either of you."

They finished eating in silence. When the pot was empty, Teldryn handed it to Rumarin. "If you're planning to contribute some effort to this endeavour any time soon, clean that," he said drily.

"Actually, I wasn't planning anything of the sort," Rumarin said, and Teldryn glared at him, crimson eyes dark and narrow with anger. 

"Listen, you s'wit -"

Jes stood up. "I've had enough," he said. "I'm going deeper inside to look for another exit." He buckled his armor, slung his bow over his back and checked the twin daggers at his sides. "When I come back, if you two haven't sorted out... whatever this is, I'm heading back to Raven Rock alone."

***

"He's really going," Rumarin said, watching the Imperial's departing back until Jes disappeared into the darkness of the caverns. "Do you think it's because you called me a s'wit? I think it's because you called me a s'wit. What is a s'wit, anyway?"

Teldryn smoothed the rocky ground with his boot and spread his bearskin sleeping roll beside the fire. His weathered face was unperturbed as he unbuckled his chitin cuirass, kicked off his boots, and stretched out to rest. Rumarin savoured a brief glimpse of his lean, dark chest and hard, strong arms and shoulders, before the Dunmer curled up in his bearkskin.

"What about an n'wah?" Rumarin said. "What's an n'wah?"

"Does your mouth ever stop moving, Altmer?" came the muttered response.

Rumarin smirked to himself as he wiped their dinner pot clean with a rag. He regretted causing Jes to leave, but prodding Teldryn was irresistible. For all his gruff, calm competence, the Dunmer was such an easy mark.

Despite an initial stab of jealousy when Jes had hired the spellsword, Rumarin had grown comfortable with Teldryn's quiet, gravel-voiced presence on their travels. He was handsome, too - you couldn't deny that, with his deep crimson eyes and strong, high cheekbones. The way his eyes narrowed and his mouth curved into a half-smirk whenever he spoke made Rumarin's stomach flip. The hair around Teldryn's mouth and chin was always roguishly trimmed, and his war paint accentuated the angles of his lean, rough-skinned face. For someone so practical, Teldryn certainly seemed to make sure he looked good.

Teldryn's visual appeal was reason enough to have him around, in Rumarin's opinion. But the Dunmer was also tough, level-headed and capable; everything Rumarin wasn't. He could hunt and track, and move with chilling silence. He was a fine swordsman, a keen shot with a bow, and could control fire any way he pleased. He knew where to find plants to eat and mix. Where Rumarin saw a frozen, ash-strewn wasteland, at the end of a day's journey, Teldryn would produce a stock of roots and cuttings he'd gathered along the way for potions and poisons. 

Rumarin stowed the gear from their meal. He packed everything neatly so as to be ready if they had to leave in a hurry, knowing that if he didn't do it, Teldryn would tell him to. Rumarin prided himself on going through life with as little effort as possible; in his opinion, laziness was a virtue. Why work unless you had to? But he had irritated the Dunmer enough for tonight, and when Teldryn was cranky, he was more likely to find extra tasks for Rumarin to do.

Once the camping area was clean, Rumarin spread his own bedroll and began to strip off his still-damp robes. As he shed his clothes, he noticed Teldryn's dark red eyes were slightly open, looking at him, and hid a smug grin. Rumarin might not be a hardened fighter like Teldryn, but he knew he was decent-looking; he'd been told so plenty of times. He was tall and straight, sleek rather than muscular, smooth-skinned and long-limbed. He made sure Teldryn had a good view from those half-lidded eyes as, bare-chested, he laid his robes out over a clean rock to dry in front of the fire.

"You're sleeping, too?" Teldryn said. 

"Don't mind me," Rumarin told him. "I just want to lie down. I'll stay awake and keep watch."

Teldryn's _hmph_ showed how impressed he was with that for a plan. 

"Worry not, my grey-skinned friend," Rumarin said lightly, stretching out on his bedroll with a sigh. "I can't sleep on this rocky ground, anyway." 

"You watch your tongue, Altmer," Teldryn said, opening his eyes to give Rumarin a warning look. Gods, but he was an easy mark! Rumarin grinned into the night and crossed his hands over his chest.

An hour or so passed. The fire burned low, until it was just a glow of embers. Without the heat from the flames, soon enough, Rumarin felt cold prickling across his shoulders.

Once or twice he felt a presence brush at his mind and realised Teldryn must be scanning for living creatures again; probably looking for Jes. He found himself slightly troubled by this. It hadn't occurred to Rumarin to be concerned for Jes, but if hard-headed Teldryn was worried, what did that mean?

"Any sign of our illustrious leader?" Rumarin asked, not really expecting a reply.

"Gone too deep," said Teldryn, gruffly. "Went northeast, and down." He shifted in his bedroll, drawing it around himself more tightly. He was cold, too, and apparently sleepless like Rumarin. "You should learn to scan. Make you a better lookout."

"Oh, I wouldn't bother trying to teach me anything," Rumarin said idly. "Jes already tried that. I'm afraid I'm mostly spell-deaf."

"Spell-deaf?" Teldryn snorted. "What rot." 

"It's a real condition," Rumarin told him. "Can't cast a single spell, except to bind my weapons."

"Never heard of such a thing. You felt me scanning, didn't you? You have some ability. You could learn if you tried."

"Maybe." Rumarin shrugged. "But that sounds like work."

Teldryn muttered something, and then was silent.

Now that the fire had mostly died, Rumarin could hear Teldryn breathing quietly. He could smell him, too - a hint of spiced soap under the sweat-smell of a day's hard journey and the ever-present Solstheim ash that worked its way into your hair, the folds of your ears, and everywhere else. Teldryn was a strange one. Clearly, he liked to take care of himself; but Rumarin would wager good money that the Dunmer would never admit to a luxury like scented soap. 

The one good part about sleeping rough was being so close to Teldryn. Teldryn liked his privacy and would take a room of his own whenever they were in town; but camping out, Rumarin had spent many a night by one of Teldryn's excellent fires, using as much of his turn on watch as he safely could to look over the Dunmer's sleeping form, admiring the hard lines of his body. 

And he had to admit that having his companions trust him to watch over them while they slept was oddly pleasing; it stirred a protective urge that Rumarin had never known he possessed.

He thought of Jes, and a knot of worry reappeared in his stomach.

"Do you think he's all right?"

Teldryn only grunted.

"Can you sense him yet?"

Another grunt, this one more negative.

"Should we go and look for him?"

Silence. Teldryn shifted again, his teeth chattering a little.

"Can I put my bedroll next to yours?"

A considering pause, followed by a grunt that Rumarin guessed was meant to indicate grudging agreement. He picked up his bedroll and laid it at Teldryn's side, then curled up next to him, shifting until they were touching back-to-back. Shared warmth seeped through their bedrolls. Rumarin couldn't help thinking it would be warmer - not to mention more interesting - to lie together on one bedroll with the other covering them both. 

Once he was warmer, it didn't take long for Teldryn's breath to become light and regular in sleep. Good as his word, Rumarin fought to stay awake, listening to the night-quiet of the cave. There was just enough light for elven eyes to see vague shapes in the darkness. A skeever shuffled across the campsite, but finding no scraps, scuttled off into the cavern system. 

He meant to stay awake, truly he did... but then Teldryn rolled over in his sleep, and a warm arm was draped over Rumarin's shoulder. Soft breath stirred his hair. 

_Much nicer,_ Rumarin thought in delight, as Teldryn's hard chest drew snug against his back, and the Dunmer's stubbled cheek pressed into his throat. Rumarin kept as still as possible, forcing himself not to shiver at the scratchy sensation on his bare throat. _Sweet Dibella, let him sleep,_ he prayed, thrilled at this development. Very, very carefully, he turned in Teldryn's arms until they were facing each other. 

It was too much to resist. Teldryn's face at rest was as rough-hewn as ever, but more vulnerable, somehow. The war-paint across his left cheekbone was a little smudged. His dark lips were slightly parted, showing the top row of his neat white teeth. Rumarin edged closer and pressed his lips to Teldryn's in a ghost of a kiss, sighing in pleasure as Teldryn grunted approval and pulled him closer.

 _He thinks I'm someone else,_ Rumarin thought guiltily, even as he slipped his tongue gently between Teldryn's lips and felt them part. 

_This is no way to treat a friend,_ he admonished himself, and ran his fingertips over a shaved strip of Teldryn's scalp to wake him.

"Teldryn, it's me," he whispered. "Rumarin. You know - Rumarin the insufferable, lazy, arrogant Altmeri bladebinder?"

"Mmph." Teldryn looped both arms around him. "Talk less, Altmer."

Rumarin grinned, hardly believing his luck. "With pleasure," he said, and pressing his lips to Teldryn's, began to kiss him until the Dunmer's sleepy moans echoed through the cavern.

****

Bone-tired, but satisfied with his night's work, Jescarius returned to the cavern where he'd left his companions. Tucked into his belt were three fine horker tusks and a shining shard of Stalhrim. He'd found a way to the northern coast of Solstheim, and a vein near the conduit that would keep the trio occupied for several days. There would be good fishing at the cave mouth, and if Rumarin was unimpressed at the prospect of three days of mining work, even he couldn't complain about fresh-caught fish for dinner and the coin that waited for them in Raven Rock.

The stillness as Jes entered the cavern made him stop in his tracks, frowning. Keeping perfectly still, he sensed for life, and found two familiar presences, both sound asleep.

He sighed - both men knew his rules about taking turns sleeping and keeping watch. He walked back to the campsite where Teldryn's small fire had burned itself out. He had a mind to wake them both with a good, old-fashioned Shout, when he noticed -

Oh. 

His companions had, it seemed, sorted out their differences with some success. The Dunmer spellsword lay sprawled on his back. Rumarin's blond head rested on his chest, which rose and fell evenly in deep, slow breaths. There was a distinct air of satisfaction about both of them, as they lay snug and warm in a tangle of bearhide and long elven limbs. 

Jes gave a long-suffering sigh, and sat down on a rock to keep watch.


End file.
